


Relevant Words on an Irrelevant Bathroom Stall

by thedoctorwatcheshetalia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 06:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6459496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedoctorwatcheshetalia/pseuds/thedoctorwatcheshetalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur sees a message written about him on a bathroom stall. Let's just say, he wasn't very amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relevant Words on an Irrelevant Bathroom Stall

**Author's Note:**

> This one was a really old fic from my Tumblr- gallifreyanlibertea
> 
> I apologize for any grammar mistakes, I didn't have the strength to re-edit.

_‘Arthur Kirkland is bae af’_

Emerald eyes widened and the golden-haired Brit parted his lips in partial surprise. Who knew that words haphazardly scribbled across a bathroom stall could bring someone such conflicted feelings?

“See? It’s as I told you.” Francis said with a smirk, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Someone wrote that about you on a bathroom stall. Didn’t I just make your day better?”

Thick brows furrowed and Arthur ran his finger across the fading markered words, the corners of his lips twitching down momentarily as he tried to place the handwriting. _Where had he seen it before?_

“Well?” Francis pressed, “What do we say, Arthur? _Thank,_ _you,_ now say it with me-”

“How did you find this?” Arthur interjected, snapping out of his strange daze and stepping out of the stall, brushing his clothing down with his damp palms.

When Francis had first told him that someone had passionately declared their love to him on a bathroom stall, Arthur hadn’t believed him. Probably because he’d always thought himself to be the most hated senior on campus. Well, he still did. Who knew? The statement could’ve been a cruel joke for all. The only people who paid any heed to Arthur were his elementary-school buddies… and a couple of ditzy girls who couldn’t see past his accent.

So naturally he was frazzled by such things.

Francis shrugged, “The urinals was full-”

“Were, Francis. The urinals were full.”

The Frenchman scowled, “Yes, yes, the urinals _were_ full, so I went to take a piss in the toilet. Then _voilà,_ there it was. I know, right!? So hard to believe, but there it was, right up in my face! Are you not flattered by this _mon_ troubled _ami?_ What do you plan on doing about this mysterious secret admirer, hm?”

Arthur scoffed, “I’m going to _kill_ whoever did this, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“That was not what I’d expected you to say,” Francis said, eyes wide. Arthur growled in response, whipping out his phone and snapping a quick picture of the writing on the stall.

“I will examine this night and day, and when I finally find out who did this, there will be _Hell_ to pay!”

Francis’ lips formed a comical ‘o’, “What have I done, _mon Dieu!_ I’ve unleashed the beast!”

Arthur ignored the Frenchman, pushing past him to return to his solitary place in the library where he spent his entire lunch period all alone nestled between two piles of books.

Today, he read Sherlock Holmes. Though he’d already read the series twice already, he hoped Sherlock would offer some insight for his own dilemma. Maybe he would be able to find his so-called admirer… and beat him to a pulp.

“You’re muttering to yourself again, Kirkland.”

Arthur scowled, burying his nose further in his book, “Go away, Alfred, I’m not in the mood.”

He could almost hear the pout in the other senior’s voice, “You’re _never_ in the mood.”

“Go dig a hole and bury yourself in it.”

Alfred chuckled, swiping away the pile of books to Arthur’s right and replacing it with his butt. “So, what’s going on in Kinky-land? Hm?”

Arthur ignored the jock, instead focusing on Sherlock’s beautiful interpretation of the behavior of a man based on his ineloquent writing. _Oh Sherlock, you always know how to make my manly parts tingle-_

“Arthur, you’re _muttering_ again! Hello? Earth to Arthur!?”

The American was cut off by the librarian shrieking for him to _get the fuck off the table,_ and Alfred just smirked, “Sure babe.” He said with a wink. The woman visibly blushed and slunk behind a desk to email God knows what to God knows who.

“If you keep that up, she’ll get the wrong message, Alfred.” Arthur remarked snarkily. Alfred snickered, sliding off the table to sit on the empty chair next to Brit’s.

“I wouldn’t really mind. Haven’t gotten laid in a month, bro.”

Arthur crinkled his nose, not knowing quite how to respond to the strange statement. Alfred laughed at Arthur’s open discomfort.

The American was quite popular, so to say, but he and Arthur used to be very close in the beginning of the year. No one knew what happened- hell, not even _Arthur_ knew! Alfred just drifted away…

But he’d always be back to bother the _hell_ out of the Brit. 

“Have you come to pester me or do you actually have a reason to grace me with your presence?”

“Need help with my English essay.”

Arthur blushed, the coloring of his cheeks not being of endearment, but of the incredible smugness settling in his veins. He was being asked to help someone with an English essay, which further inflated his over-sized ego. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Alfred said, “Due today, next period.”

“How much have you completed?”

Alfred grinned, “Zilch.”

Go figure. Arthur rolled his eyes in response and Alfred laughed his obnoxious laugh. “J.K., I did like three paragraphs. I need help with the conclusion.”

Arthur sighed. Alfred had always been an idiot when it came to _everything._ Arthur had known him for only a year but he often found the American more tolerable than any of his other companions. There was no way he would ever say that out loud, though. Alfred would just have to figure it out himself.

“Let me see it.”

Alfred nodded, slinging his bag off his shoulders and unzipping it, his tongue sticking slightly out of the corner of his mouth, often an involuntary motion when it came to the American. He shuffled around and produced a crumpled mess of lined paper, plopping it into Arthur’s hands with a smile, “Try not laugh, okay?”

“No promises.” Arthur said with a hint of a smile, straightening the papers on the desk, “I wish you’d take better care of your work, Jones.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Alfred said with a grin, coming up behind the British senior and throwing an arm casually around his shoulders, leaning over Arthur’s shoulder as the Brit read over the paper.

 

 

> **_The Importance of Burgers In My Life_ **

Before he knew it, the title itself had caused Arthur to laugh aloud. Alfred pouted in response and Arthur apologized under his breath before reading on.

 

 

> _People (like Arthur) often tell me that burgers kill people in their sleep… but seriously guys? I mean, come on. That sucks. Burgers are awesomesauce. They’re the essence (see Arthur? I used a big word) of my life and people (Arthur) can try to drag me down, but I will always love you, burger. Forever._
> 
> _Sometimes, I even have wet dreams of them. Putting my meat between those soft buns… by meat, I mean a patty. I knew you were thinking dirty, Arthur, haha. I’m so funny, right?_

Arthur crinkled his nose.

 

 

> _Like I was saying, those soft, sesame-seeded buns. That crispy lettuce… all that heart attack wrapped in Jesus… I mean, who wouldn’t like to have some? I’d like to have me some right now, so I’mma stop writing and get me some._
> 
> _The end._

The end of the ‘essay’ was decorated with a clever ketchup stain and Arthur laughed, “Alfred F. Jones please tell me this isn’t what you’re going to turn in.”

Alfred smirked.

“You’ve _got_ to be joking. I’m mentioned way too many times… I’m almost positive it’s illegal to turn it in without my consent-”

“Nah man.” Alfred said, squeezing Arthur’s shoulders lightly, “I’mma turn it in. Just wanted’cha to read it first.”

Arthur groaned, “Ugh, fine. I have to show Francis, though, may I take a picture?”

“Sure thing, bro.”

Arthur’s friendship with Francis was a strange one. One day he’d be positive that he hated the Frenchman, but the next day he’d be listening intently to Francis’ daily scoop of gossip. It’s not like Arthur never contributed to the conversations either… 

Gingerly unlocking his phone, the picture he’d taken before of the bathroom stall popped up, instantly souring Arthur’s mood. He curled his lip in disdain, thumb almost coming to press the home screen before realizing-

The handwriting on the essay looked suspiciously similar to the one on the stall.

“Alfred, did you write this essay or did someone else do it for you?”

“All me!” Alfred said proudly. Just like Arthur had feared. The Brit bit his lip, increasing the brightness of his phone before jutting it into Alfred’s face.

“Did you write this?”

Alfred sniffed, pushing the phone away with a finger and squinting at the screen, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose. A warm blush took hold of Alfred’s features and the nervous American glanced back up into Arthur’s hardened green eyes.

“Uh, well, you see-”

“Did you?”

Alfred gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously, arm slowly retreating from around Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur raised a thick, dark eyebrow and Alfred bit his lip.

In one fluid motion, Alfred snatched his essay from Arthur’s hands, swiped up his bag and bolted for the door.

“I fucking _knew_ it!” Arthur hissed, snatching his own possessions before running right after the stupid Yank. How fucking _dare_ that stupid burger-eating, _fat-arse_ blonde write such things out for the public eye to see? Was he trying to _ridicule_ Arthur? Now that his extremely British pride had been struck, there was no going back. 

Arthur prowled down the empty hallways, “Come out, come out, Alfred.”

The bell rang and the little blonde cursed under his breath. _To get to class or to get justice?_ Choices, choices. Arthur clenched his fists at his sides, storming toward the direction of his next class. He would get his irrational revenge. He knew it. After school, he’d find the American and beat him to pieces.

But it didn’t quite happen that way.

The situation refused to leave his mind. Arthur couldn’t stop tapping his pencil, bouncing his leg, biting his lip… he was so damn nervous for some reason. Suddenly, the full force of the message hit him. What if Alfred actually felt that way about him? There was no way he’d be able to face the idiot again! No!

Cheeks flushing a deep red, Arthur groaned, burying his face in his hands. He didn’t have time for physics with this life-or-death situation on his hands! He didn’t know what to do anymore! He could never face Alfred ever again and it was settled. He’d pack his bags and move to Canada, living under the name Jeffrey until his skin raisined.

_You’re overacting, Kirkland._

Yes, brain voice. Arthur _was_ overacting, but at that age, matters such as these meant the world was ending.

Sure, Alfred was cute. Oh, what the hell was he saying, Alfred was bloody _hot._ An athlete too. Though you’d think he wouldn’t be that smart, he had the potential to be ten times smarter than Arthur if he actually applied himself, and Arthur found that incredibly sexy now that he thought about it.

_No, Arthur, no. No. No. No. No._

Yes again, brain voice. Arthur was indeed contemplating confronting the American about it. Maybe they could actually end up together in the end…

No.

Arthur sighed. This was going to be one long class period. 

 

* * *

 

Arthur had a reputation for having a separately functioning brain. His heart didn’t listen to his head, and his head never paid any heed to his circulatory organ. Figuratively, of course.

Which was why Arthur found himself storming down the familiar path to Alfred’s locker after his last class had ended. Knuckles white from fists being clenched tight. Arthur shoved Alfred’s two dumb cronies- Gilbert and Matthias- out of the way before pushing the American himself against his locker.

“Jones! Explain yourself, you _buffoon!”_

Gilbert flashed the pleading Alfred a shit-eating grin and waved, “See ya, Jonesy!”

“Fuck you, Gilbert!” Alfred shouted back. Arthur gripped Alfred’s jaw and wrenched his face down to meet Arthur’s heated glare. “Dude! I can explain! It was a dare!”

Oh.

_Oh._

It was a dare. He’d gotten worked up over nothing. It was just a stupid dare. Arthur released his hold on Alfred’s jacket and sniffed, “A dare?”

“… Yeah?”

“Oh, um, this is embarrassing.”

Alfred smiled nervously, “It doesn’t have to be. People make mistakes all the time, dude!”

Arthur rolled his eyes, fingering the straps of his backpack, “Let’s not continue speaking of this, alright?”

“Sure! Let me walk ya to the bus.” Alfred said warmly, throwing his arm around Arthur’s shoulders.

“So, what exactly was the dare?” Arthur asked, inching around the subject gingerly.

Alfred grinned, “Gilbert and I were playing, and he gave me the dare. It was, ‘write your weirdest confession on a bathroom stall’.”

Arthur nodded, walking along for awhile before the meaning of the sentence and Alfred’s self-satisfied smirk hit him like a brick. He stopped abruptly, head craning up to look at Alfred with a neutral expression on his face. Alfred looked back at him with a grin and a cute tilt of his head.

“Confession?”

Alfred nodded, “Yeah, confession.”

Porcelain cheeks pinkened and Arthur clenched and unclenched his fists, not knowing what to say.   

“Confession meaning… you- um, I’m, uh-”

“Bae as fuck? Yep.”

Now, this really was awkward.

“I took a picture of my essay before turning it in.” Alfred informed, “I’ll show it to you…. six o’clock, at McDonald’s, take it or leave it, sugar.”

Arthur’s green eyes widened, “Uh-”

“I’ll pick you up then,” Alfred said with a grin. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Arthur’s, who made a noise of protest in response and shoved Alfred’s chest with all the strength he had left, cursing under his breath. Alfred chuckled and took two steps back, giving Arthur a mock salute, “See ya then, Artie!”

And then he was gone, walking down the hallway with a skip in his step, leaving a flustered Arthur in his wake, smiling to himself and shaking his head, cheeks burning.

It’s amazing how five scribbled letters on a bathroom stall (three real words, one farce word, and two letters to be exact) could change the course of someone’s entire day drastically.

Now it was just a matter of hurrying to his bus, catching it on time, and getting himself home to look decent enough to let himself be seen by Alfred’s gorgeous blue eyes.

It was going to be a long day.


End file.
